


The Dungeon of the Mad King

by Taxouck



Series: Tales of the Mad God [1]
Category: Monster Girls | Monster Boys, Original Work
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Gen, Gender Identity, Gender Issues, Internalized Transphobia, Lesbian Character, Male-to-Female Transformation, Multiplicity/Plurality, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, Trans-Affirming Physical Transformation, Transformation, Transgender, a bunch of eggs walk into a dungeon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:49:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21831715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taxouck/pseuds/Taxouck
Summary: Doan, a ranger, Roland, a shieldbearer, Lowell, a troubadour, and a secretive mage with no name, are a merry band of adventurers seeking the usual fortune and glory. Following rumors of great treasure, their latest quest brings them to one of the numerous abandoned castles of the Mad King...
Relationships: Original Female Character(s)/Original Female Character(s), polyamory baby
Series: Tales of the Mad God [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1573114
Comments: 17
Kudos: 21





	1. Split Seconds

**Author's Note:**

> oops I really thought I'd uploaded this here a while back
> 
> Look basically I always feel mildly self-conscious with the ratio of original work to fanfic stuff I'm putting on this website so I'm guessing that's why I hadn't uploaded this here, but that's dumb, and I'm dumb. Is it stuff worth reading or not? It is. So should I put it where people can see it? Only makes sense to.
> 
> I do have plans for a big fanfic soon(tm), but in the meantime enjoy this story (and a short sequel I'll upload once I'm done with this one). 
> 
> Originally written in February 2019!  
> (and imo chapter 1 could really use a rewrite, but you can't spend your days continuously working on old stuff)

"Onwards!" the troubadour Lowell ordered his troop, pointing his mandolin like a sword in the direction of the dilapidated castle sitting on the edge of a cliff. "The riches, I can already smell them!"

His beaming smile was only beat by his shiny clothing, a matching red ensemble and hat, decorated with bands of reflective fabric, given this property by the gold that was weaved in. His face seemed haughty, but his charm was genuine; angular, sharp traits enhanced by a pointy goatee at the end of his chin.

The shieldbearer Roland grunted, his entire, massive body covered head to toe in a steel armor with a decorative coat of silver painted over it. The same went for his shields, the size of himself, one on each arm. The group had been on a few adventures already, but none had promised such a hefty reward as this one.

Well, it was all legends and hearsay that Lowell had gathered, no one was paying them to go there this time - but apparently it was worth more than the trouble if the promised wealth was indeed in the dungeon of this castle owned by the Mad King, who had received his nickname from his eccentricity rather than any form of malice on his end. It was said he could glance into the future thanks to a pact he’d made with a deity when he was but sixteen and fresh on the throne, and as such that none of his properties nor their contents were the fruit of happenstance.

The last two companions, a mage and a ranger, stayed silent. The secretive mage, a scarred and bald man in a blue robe covered in sigils, was committing to memory his spells for the day, while the ranger Doan - youngest of the group, with an impeccably shaved face, wearing a bandana that was keeping his long hair out of his face, a brown leather garment and beige reinforced cotton pants - was silently brooding, glancing back and forth between the musician and the group's protector in a bit of a messy display of emotions. Shooting angry glances at the troubadour was nothing new, but the unclear situation with the shieldbearer came from last night's watch.

The mage closed his book with a clap and glanced at the gigantic metal bars signaling the entrance of their adventure of the day.

The metal splintered inwards, letting the group enter an imposing grotto resembling a hall. "You're welcome," the magician mumbled before lighting up his hand. This floor and its cells had long been emptied, leaving nothing to do but to progress further. Doan seemed inquisitive; he glanced at the circular stairs that lead down to the challenge gauntlet proper and thought for a moment, a sign his companions recognized as needing to wait for him to speak out his plan.

"I'm gonna go ahead and see if I spot any traps," he finally explained.

"Sure. Be careful, friend," replied Roland, dropping a knee to the ground to take a break under his weighty armor.

"We're rooting for you, brother in arms!" Lowell playfully sang, accompanying it with a couple notes from his instrument.

"Aren't you gonna need a light?" the mage offered.

"I'm properly equipped, don't worry," Doan replied, taking out enchanted lenses he'd obtained in one of their previous quests. Putting them on, he could see as clear as day.

He carefully went down the stairs, one step at a time, until the echoes of his feet were but a distant memory to the rest of the group.

Too few moments later they heard something crashing down on the floor below them. They rushed to their companion's rescue, the shieldbearer uncharacteristically taking the lead over the musician.

The door they found at the bottom of the stairs had had its lock picked open, and Roland continued his dash inside. The mage quickly followed behind to light up the room, only to find a gigantic stone slab easily taking up the two thirds of the room smashed against the floor, linked to the ceiling by a few wooden beams. A lever was on the wall on the other side of the room.

A simple crushing ceiling trap... There was no way Doan had fallen to that, right? He would never have made such a rookie mistake... He must be elsewhere, or the trap had a secret, or wasn't as it seemed... Roland started fearing for the fate of his companion, but knew he couldn't traverse the room in time to reach the lever, as the slab was already climbing back up and he didn't want himself trapped in the ceiling. Still, he was fearing what the panel lifting up was gonna reveal, as Lowell finally caught up and stopped right behind him.

With surprise, Roland discovered the bottom of the slab was covered by some manner of green jelly. He instantly recognized it as a gelatinous cube, though he'd never seen any spread so thin, nor what it was even doing as a component of a trap. His gaze didn't linger on the trap itself, however, as what he found underneath terrified him a lot more: Doan's clothes, covered in a brown goop that pulsated in rhythm with the trap's monstrous component. The armored man felt weak in the knees, and he stumbled down onto them, screaming at the top of his lungs the name of his now late best friend. Lowell looked away, consumed by guilt, but the mage only had to close his eyes for a second to keep his cool before concentrating his energy for a minute on a spell.

The result seemed to stun the mage for a moment. "I think it might be too soon to call it a death, my friend." He carefully put his hand on the behemoth's armored shoulder, transmitting him the thought he was hearing from the pile of colored goo on top of their friend's clothes.

"God dammit. I should've seen this happen. I'm scared..."

The goop seemed to slowly raise a formless appendage out of itself, sliding forwards and dragging the clothes along with its slug-like movement.

"Yeah, of course you should've seen this happen, Doan." / "Why are you accusing me, myself? How are we communicating like this?" / "Don't leave me behind, please!"

The limbs multiplied fast, going from one to five, then from five to fifteen. The brown goo seemed to shift colors, splitting into three the closer it got to the other side of the room. One of its sides was turning red, the second purple, and the last, a bright yellow.

Roland was utterly stunned at the spectacle, a glint of recognition in his eyes. Something about this was... Well, he'd somehow expected it. The three sludges of unicolor slime really were his friend - his friends. Roland's mind drifted back to the conversation of last night.

Roland was stirred awake by the sound of stifled sobs. Opening his eyes and scratching the back of his short blond hair, he realised it was coming from the ranger in charge of this half of the night's watch. Something very out of character for the one who usually switched between calculating and impulsive. Roland's protective instincts kicked in, and he quickly found himself approaching Doan.

"Hey," he said, trying to get his companion's attention.

Doan turned around relatively suddenly, and went back to his frequent anger. "Dammit. Hey. Tell me you haven't just seen this."

"Well..." Roland scratched his head. "I've heard it, mostly. Mind if I sit next to you?"

Doan replied with a groan and let him sit, then his demeanor changed once more to his collected side. "Should I tell him?"

He engaged in a dialogue with himself, Roland awkwardly being placed in the role of the spectator. "Am I out of my mind!?"

"No, I am not. If I think about it, we're gonna travel with this group a while longer. It'll do me good to have someone to confide in."

"So I'm just gonna select him out of the bunch simply because he heard me sob at night!?"

"No, brain, that's just not fair. Roland isn't just anyone. You know what happened with the lizardmen ambush just as much as I do."

Roland decided to use this as an excuse to butt in to what seemed to be this self-imposed mental dialogue spoken aloud. "Ah, the lizardmen... Bet their chieftain is still finding a tooth in his tent every once in a while after that shield bash of mine." The reminisced adventure brought a tentative smile to the ranger's face, his crisped body loosening a bit. "Look, Doan. I don't really know exactly what's troubling you. I can more or less see the effects, but I'm very lost regarding the reason why. But if there's one thing I know, it’s that I want to be here for you no matter what's happening in that little brain of yours. I want to be here for everyone here. I have way better things to do with my energy than to judge."

"I understand that, yes," replied Doan. "Which is why I am deciding to tell you now."

He groaned at himself for a moment. "If this goes belly-up, I do not take responsibility for this one."

"It won't," Roland assured him.

Doan collected himself once more, sat up straight, and went over how he would say this once in his thoughts before starting to speak. "I am sure you're aware by now I have... Well, I call them two modes of thought."

Roland nodded in silence, letting Doan talk about this at his own pace.

"I have this current one, which most of the time appears relatively calm and collected, though that'd be untrue. It is more that I think things through before taking any decision. And I have this other one, where I think on my feet and go with my gut. When I don't know what to do, I let them bicker and reach a conclusion."

"Yeah," affirmed Roland. "So far, there's nothing there that I didn't know. You know your two kinds of thought have busted our asses out of some complex situations, right?" He gave a warm smile to his friend and offered him a hug, and once the embrace was exchanged, he went back to a more serious look on his face. "But I'm guessing that's not the whole story?"

Doan sighed. "Nah. It's not. Again, don't tell anyone, you got it?"

Roland replied by gesturing zipped up lips.

"Okay." Doan's thought-through mode slipped out again. "The thing is, and it is hard to admit, I have this third mode of thought. But it's a little bizarre. I don't really see its use, beyond that... Let me think... It is comfortable?" he chirped, testing out the word before nodding to himself. "Really comfortable."

"Hmm. Was that the one I heard sobbing earlier?" asked Roland with care in his voice, trying not to sound aggressive nor mocking in any way.

"Yes, that was the third mode. It is soft and empathic, I guess I would describe it? It cares more about seeing the good in everyone. And tonight, it felt like crying, because we have been under a lot of stress, with the constant danger our lives have been lately. It really helped, letting it all out."

"I'm glad," Roland replied with another smile. He let the silence linger for a minute or two as they both laid down to look at the stars. Anything that could attack them, they would hear it anyway. "May..." the kind man tentatively tried. "May I meet this third way for you of being yourself?"

Doan chuckled, taking on his quick-thinking voice again. "From the way you're talking of it, it's like the thought modes were different people."

His smile dissipated for a moment as he pondered over this new thought. "That doesn't sound right, does it...? Hmm. Probably not."

"Well, a probably not is not a no? It could be," tried Roland.

"I suppose," Doan replied. "Anyway, promise you won't hurt me in this third mode. I really care about it."

"I understand. And I won't."

Doan closed his eyes, then, to Roland's surprise, scuttered over in his arms. "Thank you," he said, teary-eyed.

Roland didn't know what to do with his hands, so he let them rest under his head, looking at the stars.

"Isn't it lovely to be alive...?" Doan muttered...

It was Roland's turn to chuckle, hearing the question.

"Actually, I think I might have another secret..." he continued, his voice still just as sweet.

By the time Roland was back in the moment, the Doans had finished splitting apart, and were making their way to the lever, the red and purple one pulling on the yellow one's arms, barely missing being crushed a second time as the trap activated again, having sensed movement on the ground. In an instant, the red one reached up and pulled the lever with all its weight, but the purple one had to join in and recruit the yellow one to total enough force to pull the lever down.

With a click, the trap immediately stopped dead in its tracks, then slowly receded into the ceiling, probably to stay in there permanently. The rest of the group cautiously traversed and made their way to their split companion, and the first two observations they could make were that the Doans were notably naked, with only one set of clothes that were way too big for them anyway, and they were just as notably female.

The red one still had a boyish quality to her, with gel in guise of hair that dripped from her head into the approximation of a pixie cut. The purple one's hair was the most similar to what Doan had before, stopping just above her shoulders. And, last, the yellow one's hair was so long it was hard to determine where it ended and her back started, the slime flowing uniformly between the two without any indication of a seam.

Roland was stunned, the mage sighed and pinched his nose bridge, and Lowell sneered.

"So I guess we really were different people in the end," Purple Doan said, her hand resting under her chin. "I would've given me a couple weeks before figuring that out without this."

Red Doan stomped towards her and went to grab her chest, eliciting a yelp from both of them as her hand sunk in instead. She pretended that was the plan all along. "And what about  _ this _ , how long 'til that bit would've been figured out?"

Purple Doan took a step back and looked down at herself. "Okay... No, this is new, I agree..."

"Girls..." Yellow Doan meekly said. "Girls, I knew."

"Well, why did you not say anything, then?" complained Red Doan.

"I'm sorry... I thought I was the only one... That only in my thought mode we were a girl..." She seemed to get teary eyed already.

Red Doan rolled her eyes and closed the distance, giving her yellow twin a hug. "I'm here," Purple joined in. "We're here."

"Uuurrgh, this is so complicateeed!" Lowell complained, in a tone that was so forced it was clear he was going out of his way to be a dick. The mage was sitting alone in a corner of the trap room, reviewing his spells once more, and Roland was mind-numbingly petting Anna.

"Okay, last time I'm going over this, I've already wasted half an hour trying to get it into that thick skull of yours," Drix growled, somehow still trying to go past Lowell's bad-faith concern. "I'm Drix. Smarty pants over there is Orwenna, and if you touch just one hair... drop of goop on Anna's head, I'm kicking your ass. And us three together, we were Doan."

"But how cooome you were three peooople? And girls at thaaat!" Lowell sneered again.

"Let it go, Lowell. Or I'll join in the ass kicking," Roland warned.

"Thanks, Sir Roland..." Anna muttered.

Roland managed to stop most of the blush going to his head.

Lowell stood back up. "Anyway, ranger shenanigans aside, we really can't bring three naked child-sized slime women with us. I say we abandon the frea-" He took a shield to the face, shutting him up for the time being.

It was Anna's turn to blush, she hadn't even had the time to react to Roland standing up.

"Why are you being insufferable today, Lowell? You're not like this usually," questioned Roland.

Lowell refused to answer, simply spitting out the blood in his mouth.

"I hate to admit it, but Lowell has a point," Orwenna announced. "I do not want to stay naked when we're on a potentially mortal quest. I do not know how much my, or rather our, new bodies can take, but this really is not convenient."

The mage closed his book with his trademark clap and approached the rest of the group. "Why don't you just fuse back? You are made of amorphous jelly now. Surely that's feasible."

Orwenna and Drix looked at each other for some time, then at the mage. "It's worth a try," Orwenna tentatively admitted.

The slime women grabbed one another's hands in what Orwenna called "the procedure", though it was but a fancy and unnecessary way of melding back together. They wanted it to feel important for their first time. So they'd prepared a whole little pseudo-choreography, where they'd first grab their hands, then slide their arms against one another, before embracing into a full hug. The colors melded into one another the further contact was made, but they somehow never mixed together. Instead of turning back to the earlier brown, the purple, red and yellow shimmered next to one another like oil as the slime figure lost the shape of the three women and a new one, still just as humanoid, rose up from the slime pile, correctly sized. When finally the limbs and head emerged, it was undeniable this woman was what Doan would've looked like had she been born a girl (and a slime). Doan looked at their multicolor body with appreciation. "I'm still me," they muttered to themselves. "I'm more me than ever."

They slipped on their clothes from earlier, which would've been notably tight in some areas had they not been made of free flowing goop. In this form, the notion of tightness meant very little as they could slip into even the smallest crevice.

"Wait, hold on... Where did the lenses go?" They thought for a moment. "Mage, can you turn off your spell?"

The aforementioned obliged for a brief moment, before lighting his hand again to avoid letting his companions in the dark.

Doan had stars in their eyes. "I have permanent night vision..."

As the group continued on their way through their adventure, while Roland was grateful for this newfound smile on his friends' head, he couldn't help but feel a churning in his gut as he thought of what else the Mad King could have put down there...


	2. Motherly Roar

A few hours ago…

The birds chirping at the first rays of the sun had a habit of waking up the king of Takal (his ancestors had named the land, not him, otherwise it would definitely have a better name). He had always considered this attunement with the natural cycle of the Earth an immense boon, probably granted by one deity or another, he'd met so many.

"What day is today?" said the man with a crown atop his head, stretching his lanky arms. "Ah yes. The 29th after the first equinox of the year 295 of the second era. Now what boon does that correspond to..."

He thought in recollection, and his eyes lit up as he remembered the castle on the Grotto Cliffs. "Ooh, hehe. Yes, that's a fun one. Servant!" he shouted to no one in particular, as his assigned butler was already standing at the ready, his own sleep based on waking up twenty minutes before his ruler.

"Yes sir?" the man with greying hair said with a little bow.

"Fetch me my scrying orb - second one on the third shelf of the seventh row." The king laid back down into his soft sheets.

"It shall be done, my master," replied his butler before nonchalantly exiting the room.

The moment the servant was out of the room, he sighed, relieved. He'd known what he had signed up for when he accepted this job at the castle, and he knew it was all just hearsay, but encounters with the Mad King always stressed him anyways. Who wouldn't be scared of the impulsiveness of this twenty-something that spoke like an elder with an attention span deficit? He dutifully went to the room next door, which was the study, down one floor, out of the room, third door on the right, across the interior garden, out the opposite way, climbed the stairs, circled back to the king's room anticlockwise and into the room next door, which was the study -- only this time with extraneous rows upon rows of hand-sized white pearls in the west wing. Following the instructions and grabbing the correct one, he did his whole trek the other way around and readjusted his clothing to finally present the orb as instructed.

"Thank you!" the king heartily said, looking deep into the milky sloshes that started to ripple on the surface of the orb. "Come and sit down, let us watch this together."

The butler lost his composure for a moment. "I'm sorry, sir, could you repeat that?"

"Ah, come here, lad. You'll enjoy the spectacle."

One knew better than to refuse a king's order.

As the party descended further in the castle's depths, they found themselves in a labyrinthine web of natural caves. Well, some parts had been carved out into staircases, so it was probably a given that some of the elements making this place both even possible to navigate and hard to do so had been meticulously planned according to whichever unknown desire of the Mad King.

Roland didn't like this meandering around. His hands were clenched down on his two tower shields' handles, his intuition just telling him to get out.

He hadn't felt such ambient hostility since that day. The one that had been the first of the rest of his life, as he called it. At least he knew its most major source this time, he told himself as he glanced once more at Lowell.

The troubadour had been mercifully silent lately, apparently having decided to change tactics to hoping his brooding would somehow nag on the group's morale. But they were quite accustomed to brooding from Doan, so instead the break from the whining was welcome.

Speaking of Doan, they still seemed to be riding the high of whatever had happened to them. Well, if they had been troubled all their life, it'd probably be a happiness that'd linger for at least a couple of days, Roland guessed?

The mage had taken the lead, lighting the way forward and deciding on the direction in case of branching paths. He was the member of the group with the self-proclaimed least trouble making meaningless decisions, so it fit him just as well. It was only thanks to his assurance that the path forward was the one they took that his companions didn't feel lost.

  
  


Roland wasn't happy at the noise he heard when a circular chamber came into view; it was the heavy breathing of a gigantic creature. He ordered his companions to halt and sent Doan to check ahead, who dutifully obliged and took a peek at the corner of the corridor they were in.

They came back on swift feet with bad news.

"It's a dragon!" Doan spoke hurriedly in hushed tones, "There's no way we can take on this thing!"

"We don't have to fight it," the mage replied, to which Roland nodded.

"Well, that's good, because I have no desire to do so," Lowell whined, quitting his self-imposed silence.

"What else can you tell me, Doan?" Roland asked.

"Hmm. Let me go check again." The rangers moved swiftly once more, stopping at the junction of the room before slipping into further darkness.

A minute passed.

Another one did, and they came back. "There's a locked door on the other side of the room, looking mighty solid."

"Did you spot a key anywhere?" the mage inquired.

"No, but come on, take three guesses as to where it could be," Doan retorted. "Bet you the dragon has it."

The mage's eyes darted to the ceiling for a moment before he pulled out his book once more. "I should be able to do something about that if you give me some time to read. It'll be a bit noisy when it comes to actually opening the door, so you'll need to be prepared for that as well."

"Who says we even have the time, though?" Lowell questioned. "Maybe that beast could wake up at any moment. I say we send our ranger to pilfer the key."

"I'd prefer we stick to the mage's plan," replied Roland. "No need to put ourselves in unneeded danger."

"Ah, come on, who are you, Doan's mother?" Roland flinched at Lowell's choice of words. "The kid can handle himself, I'm sure."

Doan interrupted. "Themselves. Or at least herself. Never himself, never again."

Lowell waved away his (likely intentional) mistake, forgiving it to himself. "As long as you still do your duties to the party."

"Yeah, well what about you!?" accused a pissed Drix as she slid herself out of her other selves, who shrunk down to a size that thankfully still allowed them to keep their clothes on, albeit very baggily. "What've you done for the group except complaining all the time, lately?"

"Well for one, I was the one to dig up the rumors of this castle, so you should be thanking ME for that little boon of yours," he replied with a glare.

"Yes, we can do that," the two Doans that were still combined replied. "Thank you so much for this adventure, Lowell."

He grumbled and muttered under his breath, turning his back from the group. "You're welcome..."

"Ah, why'd you do that?" complained Drix. "I was so ready to tear him a new one."

Orwan - Orwenna and Anna - picked her up. "He wasn't wrong, and I think he just wants some gratitude every now and then. There's no reason to refuse giving him some, right?" they explained calmly before taking Drix back in.

"Okay," interrupted the mage with a clap of his book. "It shouldn't take me more than two minutes. We should move towards the door already, to avoid the beast waking up and getting in the way."

Roland nodded, and as soon as Doan gave the all clear, the group quickly traversed the room as silently as they could, Roland placing himself in the middle of the crossing, pushing his companions ahead as they passed by him.

That's when he heard the calm breath they'd been hearing all this time give way to a budding groan.

He turned his torso around and found himself face to eye with a frightening, pink-scaled dragon.

The creature reared back and he only had the time to place himself and his shields between its breath and his companions. The expected fire was instead a strange jet of sparkling bubbles, but it didn't lose in strength all the same.

As Lowell and Doan cowered near the door while the mage was frantically double-checking his book, making sure he was getting the spell right, Roland mentally chuckled as memories from his childhood reminded him this was a dragon versus dragon fight.

Today was the day. His fourteenth birthday, and as was tradition in his village, the day the old seer would tell him of his future. He was filled to the brim with excitement, having awaited this day all his life.

His father pushed him through the curtain that served as a door for the most helpful granny of the village. "You got this, champ! Go and make your dad proud, alright?"

He gulped his saliva and forged ahead into the house.

"Who is this!?" a coarse voice asked from the balcony overlooking the main room.

"It is I, Roland Guerlan. I have reached the age of fourteen, and require one of your foretellings." He had been repeating this sentence to himself over and over in his head and was so giddy to have said it aloud just now. It was finally happening, after all.

The granny groaned and dropped down the stairs one step at a time. She approached the young man and started looking him over. "I see. I see. Follow me." She gestured towards the back room, a poorly-lit room whose main point of attraction was the cauldron in its center, placed atop a licking flame hungry for more wood. She obliged it, and the fire roared once more, the room filling with the putrid smell of whatever that brown liquid in the pot was.

She sat him down in front of it as she collected herbs and fruits scattered about the room and dropped them into the putrid liquid inside the cauldron. She then sniffed around, apparently able to discern different smells in this awful smelling stew. "Oh... Rosemary?" She eyed the boy over and cackled. "Rosemary..."

"What's so special about rosemary?" asked the boy.

She grabbed his face in her bony hand and continued cackling. "What's so special about YOU that there is rosemary?"

"I d- I don't..." he stuttered.

She let him go and grabbed a bag of powder, of which she threw a generous handful in the cauldron.

An immense noise rose up and the cauldron instantly exploded into a myriad of reds and pinks, the color escaping away from the modesty of the hut and shining like a beacon throughout the village. The room filled with a spicy feeling that brought tears out, it was like Roland's entire body was being pricked by needles, but especially his tongue and eyes. He was terrified as the witch only cackled further. Her laugh had gone from hysteric to mad. "I cannot believe this!!" she screamed. "Ha ha ha ha ha! A boy with maternal instincts! A dragoness without scales!!"

Despite the ambient pungency, Roland went pale at the mention of maternal instincts. He had hidden them so well, even from his own parents. How did she know? What did she see!? He jumped out of his seat as she went for the window, but he couldn't stop her in time.

"THE BOY DRAGONESS!" the geezer announced into the street for all to hear.

The boy dragoness.

The 14th birthday title was sealed, never to be changed again.

He would forever be known to his village as the boy dragoness.

He was scared.

He had been right to be scared. Everybody treated him so differently from this day onwards. Even and especially his own parents, who claimed they didn't understand him. Why was he like this?

He was just angry he hadn't been able to keep it for himself longer. He didn't know what was in his future that this facet of him would turn into something so prominent in his life.

He hated it all the same. Nobody understood. What the village populace originally saw as a warrior-to-be was now a frail boy that wanted to be a mom, as they'd taken the most literal reading of his future.

And apparently his rebuttals convinced no one. He himself was surprised each time he dodged the question instead of stating as clear as day he didn't want to be a mom.

It wore him down eventually.

He didn't stick around for even a month, and left his village, heading straight towards the capital and its knight's academy.

"You think you scare me...?" muttered Roland under his breath, doing his best to keep his stance steady against the incessant barrage of energy the dragon was sending him. Unfortunately and despite his best efforts, he couldn't block it all. Some slipped along the curve of his shields and snaked their way inside his armor. He coughed.

His companions needed him. That's all he knew.

He would protect them.

His shields grew hot and started melting against the pressure of the attack. More and more of the bubbles started hitting him all over, exploding in mid-air and splashing against his armor.

He was sure his skin wasn't exposed. And yet it hurt, it burned, just like that day.

But he stood his ground. He needed to protect his companions. His flock.

The melting metal of his shields and armor dripped down onto his skin, but surprisingly, it alleviated the pain instead of adding to it. As if something had been ripped off before and it was being put back on, pain going in reverse.

He managed to get a glance at the dragon during a moment and his gut churned as they exchanged a glance; he groaned and growled.

"I will not..." he said in a rising voice. "Let you hurt my friends."

The shields's grips slipped out of his hands as they disappeared, blown into shards by the bubbles. But the shields stayed on, sliding down his arms and growing spikes that then flattened themselves into scales.

The steel of his armor was dripping off his back and onto a tail that was snaking its way out of his pants. The tip was particularly getting covered, turning into a clobbering weapon of fierce power.

His helmet melted onto his face, leaving behind a draconic snout covered in bright silver scales.

His torso twisted and churned again, his armor being turned into his scales here too, but just as importantly, two protrusions formed on his chest. His musculature was in no way fading, only rearranging itself into a more feminine shape.

"I will not..." his voice boomed now. It boomed, and yet it was so high-pitched. Like a fire crackling on wood. "LET YOU HURT MY FAMILY!"

She removed her wings from the way and screeched the roar that had been building in her lungs, knocking the mage out of his concentration and stunning the other two members of the party. The bubbles popped in mid-air, far away from harming anymore, and the dragon was pushed away in surprise. It closed its mouth and, as the roar finally came to an end, it whimpered, dropping on its belly and looking at the most powerful being in this room.

All were silent. She walked up to the dragon and tugged the key that was attached around its neck by a simple rope.

She walked back to the door. She unlocked it, opened it and beckoned her companions to the other side, before entering herself and closing the door again.

The room they entered seemed to extend further to the right, taking the shape of an L.

As she finally had the time to breathe, the adrenaline of the moment receding, she was tackled by an over-enthusiastic Doan who jumped into her arms.

She spun around on her heel and kissed them.

Lowell was seething, and the mage took his focus on his book of spells again, preferring not to think about whatever was happening over there. Preferring to, but failing. He muttered under his breath. "I bet you're enjoying watching this, you mad old young'un..." He attempted meditating for a while to get back in control of his thoughts.

The moment's passion passed, and the lovers broke their kiss, but not their embrace. Doan had the same starry-eyed look from earlier on their face, only that it lingered for longer than before.

"Roland..." they muttered.

"Call me Boy," the dragoness replied.

They tilted their head. "Are you... Are you sure about this name?"

"It is the part shaved from my title. It has to go somewhere," she explained.

"I don't get it," they pouted in annoyance.

Boy sat down, lowering Doan with her. She threw a glance at her other companions, and seeing them apparently lethargic - or at least unwilling to contribute - she thought to herself she had the time to explain. Explain her village, its traditions, her life as it were when she was a child. And that fateful day, the first of the rest of her life.

"Even more so, then..." questioned Doan, who was sitting on her lap, after hearing all of it. "Why choose a name based on a moniker that causes you so much pain?"

"That's exactly the point. If it becomes my name, if I make the choice of that myself... It cannot hurt me anymore. It stops being a reminder of what I was seen as, and simply becomes the series of sounds I respond to." She let her hand run along their head. "I cannot be the boy dragoness if I am Boy, the dragoness."

Maybe one could call the logic questionable, but it wasn't Doan's place to judge, just as Boy hadn't last night. It already felt like so long ago, with how radically their lives had changed. "And so, between us...?"

Boy smiled. "A complicated situation... I guess, after last night, I stopped seeing you as one of the children in need of protection; I understood you had never been one..." She glanced at the two people wallowing in silence. "Which is not something I can say of our companions. They are more fragile than either of us was."

"I resent that," replied the mage, who apparently had been paying attention despite himself.

Lowell stood up and walked away from the rest of the group, preferring to take his mind off of his companions by observing the rest of the room... Only to find himself face to face with a peculiar creature as he turned around the corner.

"Ah, welcome..." an unfamiliar, sultry voice announced when the entity's presence had finally been noticed. "Who amongst your group is the most erudite?"

The mage gulped.


	3. Crown for a New Age

"Wait..." the butler asked. "The warrior too?"

The king chuckled knowingly. "It is more common than you'd think."

He turned his head around to his master. "Isn't it a one in a million situation?"

"No... More of a one in a hundred." He smiled. "As I said, it's more common than you'd think."

The background chatter of the orb captured his attention again as a voice announced "Who amongst your group is the most erudite?"

"Oooh, I know the next one up," the young man said giddily. "We've met before, actually."

The butler didn't reply, still stunned by his own internal thoughts after hearing the odds.

"Well..." Lowell looked at the woman in front of him. Half woman? The bottom half of her body was that of a lion, all four paws. She was basically wearing only jewelry, plus a little brown bag on the side of her belt. Why was everything today a woman!? Nonetheless, in the presence of a stranger, he regained his composure. "That would be me!" he announced triumphantly with a charming smile, while his companions arrived behind him to see what the commotion was about.

The sphinx giggled. "Very cute, but no. That's not the answer I was told was right. Your time will come, musician, but you have some simmering to do first."

Lowell's face went through a whole gradient, turning pale as a ghost, flushed pink, then red with anger. "I do not! Shut up!"

She smiled. "Adorable. Anyway..." She fixed her gaze upon the robe-wearing man. "Wouldn't you agree you are the one I am looking for?"

The mage looked at her dead in the eyes, his expression showing total apprehension. "I do not want this. Whatever you have planned for me, whatever he told you to do to me... Please, don't."

The sphinx threw him a knowing smile. "You sure speak as if you know what is going to happen."

His only reply was to point towards his two-slash-four transformed companions with a blank expression on his face. Doan waved.

"Are you implying this is to be your fate too?" she said with mischief in her voice.

"Yes. Yes, I am. And I'm gonna tell you the exact same thing I told him decades ago - it is really not worth bothering with."

"I dunno," interjected Doan, "I sure feel more comfortable like this." Boy nodded in agreement.

They didn't get it, the mage told himself. They didn't understand there were some things in life that were best not thought about.

He really didn't need his friend's "boon".

The sphinx stretched her hind paws and switched to a sitting position. "Anyway, let us begin."

"Begin what?" asked Boy, cautious.

"Surely you know what sphinx do, dragoness. We ask riddles." She grinned. "Well, the ones I'll ask today have been prepared in advance by a certain king, which is a bit boring to me, but it's what will come of it I'm excited about! If you five could sit down," she said, pointing at the lovebirds and Lowell, "the one I'm interested in is this grumpy little person over there."

Doan and Boy obliged, and Lowell went to tune his mandolin, staying otherwise silent.

"Now," the lion-woman started, "I might not have as many questions as I usually do, unfortunately. The man in charge made it clear he'd carefully considered the few he gave me."

The mage sighed. "Okay. Sure. Let's get this over with."

"What is the Mad King's true name?"

The sigh turned into a groan. "He doesn't have any. He used to have a name, but it never was his." He could already see where this was going. This question was made to bring back memories. He knew why.

Oxward, the greatest magical school this side of the continent. He had worked hard to get in, but so had plenty others that hadn't made the cut. He felt like he'd cheated his place in, like everybody always kind of did, but he had a tried-and-true strategy against the guilt - best not to think about it.

The school had within its method the idea to organize the classes based on some perceived compatibility between the students. It was apparently to make the teaching more efficient without entering into private lessons; time was finite and the apprentices were many. He was grouped with most of the women of first year, ending as one of the two men of the class. He was surprised that's where the school told him he belonged - but it was best not to think about it.

He was studious, one of the top performers of the first year. Success came at a cost: he dedicated so much time to his studies that he had little for anything else. That suited him just fine. The only person in this class that bested him, he never saw at the library; she was a natural as it was said. To avoid feeling any jealousy, he did as always - best not to think about it.

The silent rivalry was broken when she accosted him one day. She was worried about him, apparently, and his lack of friends, and so decided to become his first one. He replied with a simple "okay" - it was best not to think about the weird things impulsive people did.

It was in second year that the transmutation classes started. She'd taken them on effortlessly and with glee. But he had encountered the first subject he struggled with. Seeing her thrive so much in something so interesting while he couldn't do the basics hurt him, somehow. To avoid frustration, he remembered next year he could select a specialization that wouldn't contain it. And in the meantime, it was best not to think about the feelings this class brought.

She had become surprisingly moody lately. He caught her idly polymorphing her own arm, when she thought herself alone in a darkened corner of the school. Best not to think about what he'd just seen.

One day, she pulled him aside, and privately asked him never to use her name again. This sounded so nice an idea he asked the same favor of her. Why was it an attractive thought though? Best not to think about it.

She started living a double identity. Every night she'd change her appearance and go off into the night, doing who knew what. Maybe it was just simple teenage defiance. Maybe it was best not to think about it.

At the start of the third year, they came to class in their polymorphed state, wearing the men's uniform. And they refused to answer any question that used their name. He felt pain at the idea of someone willingly abandoning the gift of femininity. It was definitely for the absolute best not to think about it at all, though.

"What do you plan to do once your studies are over?" his friend asked.

"I was thinking of roaming the land, helping wherever needed. I don't want much for myself, just to make this world a little better," he replied.

"Same for me, lad. I don't think I could do the whole constantly on the move thing though. Which is all fine." They grinned. "My parents probably expect me to take over the throne anyway. I'm sure I could do a lot of good as a king."

"Hold on... King?"

"I thought you would be more surprised I was royalty, but it is the king part that grabs your attention?" he teased. "Well, I had no desire to ever be a queen, no thank you."

His heart raced as he started thinking of the things best not thought about.

"I mean, could you imagine yourself as a princess, maybe? It'd feel off, wouldn't it?"

No, it wouldn't. And this was bad. Very bad. He got out of his chair and his hyperventilation brought his head to the floor in a violent thud.

He never finished his studies; he had to flee this place that made him think of things he didn't want to think about. His heart sank as he knew the king must've gathered what those were by now, though.

Through his decades long travels, he never could flee the influence of the king, however. His fame and his eccentric, yet still empathic boons were known all over the land.

At the bottom of his heart he knew it was only a matter of time for him to get his own.

It was best not to think about it.

"What are your companions' true names?" The second question brought him out of his recollection.

"Drix, Orwenna, Anna, Boy, and if this has been carefully set up by _him_ , I suppose we do not know for Lowell yet." He knew exactly which question this led into.

"Hey!" Lowell objected, but he was promptly ignored anyway.

"Right, right, fair enough." The lion-woman licked her lips in anticipation. "Now then... What is your true name?"

"Don't have one," he replied immediately. "Not worth the trouble."

"Haha, yes, I was told you would fail this one!" she giddily cooed, her front paws scratching at the ground. "Oh, it's perfectly fine for others, but it could never apply to me, right?" she said, pretending to imitate his voice.

He glanced away, feeling not just mocked, but understood, so very uncomfortably understood. "So... What? Is this the moment, then? The moment you throw whatever spell he has meticulously planned for me and make me reconnect with whatever I am deep inside?"

"Well, do you want this to be that moment?" she teased.

"Is this another of your riddles?" he asked as he felt his breaths grow stronger.

"Yes, it is. And this one I won't accept the wrong answer."

He closed his eyes and frowned, his heart beating just like that day. But he didn't want to pass out. He sat down on the dusty ground and held his chest tight, his breathing becoming erratic. He couldn't let it. He couldn't, but it would happen anyway, he could feel it.

He was quickly tackled by a warm, gooey individual, then wrapped in a blanket of metallic wings. Even Lowell grumpily contributed, playing one of his lullabies on his mandolin.

Ah, right.

He wasn't alone this time.

As he remembered countless folk tales, he chuckled at the idea of friendship saving the day, but he had to admit it really was a powerful force. Who would've known…

A few minutes passed like this, very needed minutes, minutes he had to take to calm his heart, and to finally do the thinking that should've come sooner.

Eventually, he was ready.

"Yes," he replied. "I want it to be. I've been waiting for this a long time."

The sphinx was giddy with excitement; she started tapping on the ground with all four of her paws. She opened her bag and lifted out a pearl. "Now, the Mad King told me to excuse him in advance if this is a bit... outdated. He made it based on who you were back when you knew each other, which was..."

"Oh, great. I'm getting teenage me's ideal body." What was it, even? He genuinely had no idea. He had spent so much time repressing he had literally forgotten. Maybe it was best to ask. "What will it do to me?"

"Well, that's the exciting part! I don't know, that's why I agreed to do this! I love surprises." She stopped tapping on the ground for a moment, in thought. "I guess I do have a hint if you want it... Ah, he must've given it to me specifically so I could tell you, I suppose."

He nodded.

"In that case, I suppose I have a last riddle. What is your favorite animal?"

Oh no.

She threw the pearl at him, which exploded in a puff of smoke against his chest.

Well, it didn't take long to turn him - her - into a woman at least, that part had been near instantaneous the moment it had connected with her skin. Which meant the spell had way more in store, that much she'd gathered. And she wasn't wrong. Her bald skull started growing hair again... Ah, not just her skull. Her whole body was getting covered in a layer of black fuzzy fur.

She felt a lot of pressure above her butt, and at first she thought it was a matter of a tail - and once again she had guessed right, one snaked out of her robe not long after, but the pressure didn't release in the slightest and two little nubs of... something grew out of her hips.

Hips that expanded and turned longer, as long as her torso, longer than that even. The nubs grew along, stretching into two new limbs with paws at their end, while her old legs turned into hind versions of those. Was she turning into a sphinx too? Well, she took a look at the tail that was growing further away as she slowly dropped down into a quadruped stance; this was not a lion's tail. And the lion wasn't her favorite animal... Thinking about which one actually was, she understood, but... that didn't... exist? What did that mean?

She sneezed and her nose turned into a moist upside down triangle, her ears climbed up to the top of her skull and turned fluffy and triangular in an instant. Whiskers snaked out from under her nose and she mewled in embarrassment as all her school notebook doodles suddenly reappeared in her head.

As the smoke slowly dissipated, all she could think of was how unwieldy her robes were now. She could hardly abandon them, though, they were pumped full of magical enhancements. Damn it.

"By the pantheon!" the sphinx woman exclaimed, before resuming her feet tapping and shrieking in excitement. "That is so adorable!!"

"What even is this...?" Lowell asked in confusion.

"Yeah, it doesn't, uh... really exist," the cat-centaur replied. "Until now, I suppose. He's really worked on his transmutation skills..."

Boy looked down at herself and nodded in agreement.

"Doesn't exist?" the sphinx's eyes grew wide. "Then the other item makes so much more sense!" She pulled out a crown from her bag, and placed it on top of the mage's head.

The cat woman was too stunned to respond, and let the crown slide off to the side a little. She put it back on correctly and asked "What?"

"Congratulations on being the queen of a new species!" the sphinx cooed. "Not everybody gets that kind of special treatment, you two must've been really close!"

No no no. The cat-centaur grabbed her crown and looked at it for a moment. That wasn't a queen's crown. "He..." Her entire face grew flushed. "He made me a princess of my own people!!"

"...Uh," replied Doan, sneaking up on the mage to take a look at the crown. "That's kind of a less prestigious title though, no?"

The princess vigorously shook her head. That was exactly what she'd wanted, and she kinda hated that, but also very much adored it.

Once the excitement settled slightly, the sphinx sat back down. "Anyways, I can't let you pass until you've answered all questions correctly. So, let me ask again, what is your true name?"

She didn't think about it for long. Once she'd let herself think of her repressed thoughts, it came like a flood and all the answers had seemed clear as day. "I am Leolia, mage, and princess of the Felcats."

The lion-woman seemed uncharacteristically stunned. "Okay, I don't know how he's done it, but that one he'd predicted word for word."

Leolia scratched the back of her head. "The Mad King has a tendency to do that, plus a flair for the spectacle I kinda have to admit I share."

"Well, in that case, I'm sure you'll appreciate..." The sphinx stretched and stood back up before trotting to the door. "Could you please line up?"

The group bunched over, safe for Lowell, who stayed at a distance from his changed companions.

"You'll appreciate... This exit!" She pressed on the door, which instead of opening, revealed itself to be a pressure plate. Immediately the floor split open, and the party fell into the abyss with a scream from each of its members. Doan even split mid-air in panic.

They hit water after a few seconds of falling, causing a gigantic splash. Doan were the firsts to emerge, their light bodies quickly floating back to the surface. Leolia was next and she paddled to reach the shore, hating this new feeling of water on her fur. Boy quickly met up with her and gave her her crown back, both having sunk to the bottom and the dragoness having simply walked to the shore. When finally the Doans fused back and put on their drenched clothes to meet back up with their party members, they were the one to notice something was wrong.

"Where's Lowell?"


	4. Letting Go

Lowell came to his senses in a completely dark cave. He was on the ground, alone. He couldn't see anything.

"Mage?" he called out as he tentatively lifted himself up. "Are you there?"

"Mage?" he tried again, gulping his saliva.

He couldn't believe he was gonna use this name. "...Leolia?"

Still no answer.

Well, he could hear some water up ahead, but the echo of the walls made it hard to grasp where.

"Doan?" he thought as he remembered the lenses that could help him.

And his companions with night vision. "Anna, Drix, Orwenna?"

Nothing still. He waved his arms in front of him, looking for a wall. His foot tripped into something wooden.

Tentatively patting away at it, he managed to understand it as the remnants of his mandolin.

He felt like crying.

He hated being alone.

He hated feeling alone.

He hated that they all got what he'd asked for for as long as he could remember, except him.

"Oh, will you please dry those tears Lowell," a glacial voice said. "Boys don't cry."

"I'm a girl..." the three year old replied.

"That is not how it works. You are a boy and boys don't cry. Now behave."

"I don't know what to do with our little Lowell. He refuses to get in his clothes," the voice said to another.

"That's because they're boy clothes! I don't want them!" the five-year-old pleaded. "Because I'm-"

"Shut up. Your mother and I are talking," interrupted the other voice, painful like fire.

"This boy's not right," the icy voice muttered, thinking the six-year-old couldn't hear it. "We need to do something."

"Don't worry," the burning one replied. "I'll shape that thing into something presentable. BOY! COME HERE!"

The girl obliged.

No, he didn't need to relive those days again. They'd been pushed aside long ago as the childish fantasy they were.

He continued to limp in the dark for some time. Longer than five minutes, less than an hour. He couldn't determine further.

It had been long enough since he'd last called for help.

"Roland?" he shouted. "Roland, by the pantheon's sake, if you can hear me!"

"Boy!!" he somehow managed to shout even louder.

Well, this was still just as useless. He could still hear the water at least, so he hoped he was making progress.

Progress to where, though? To another direction he didn't want to go in?

"Impossible. You are impossible to work with, Lowell." The glacial voice circled back and forth around the fourteen-year-old, who had turned down yet another perfectly good marriage candidate. "House Crescent will never want to talk with us again after the way you treated their daughter."

He didn't respond, as he had learned he should. Still, had he, he would've told her he was into men.

Well, women were fine while he still had some... male urges to take care of, but while he had stopped talking about it, it was still his plan eventually. Her plan.

Well, maybe she should try again? It had been years, maybe things would be different...

Things hadn't been different.

Things would never be different.

He was a fool and a freak and he better never talk of this in front of good company again.

Now off to your room, boy.

Women were so lucky, thought the sixteen-year-old. So lucky and they just never knew it.

It's so easy to live life with the good kind of body. He had to trudge along the hard way, like actually strong people did.

There is no worth to anything without adversity.

That's why he fled the voices. Because he didn't need their safety nor their world.

He would carve his own, as a musician, and for doing it all from scratch, he would be acclaimed as he should.

The Mad King gave away benevolently so much all over the world. It was downright ridiculous.

Everywhere, smiling faces that hadn't deserved a lick of their happiness. He had no doubt most of them were faking it, pretending it didn't need to be deserved to try and lie to themselves that their joy was genuine.

He was no fool. He wouldn't fall for it.

Now, those stories of an actual challenge gauntlet by this Mad King? It was so far out of his usual modus operandi, it must've been for something truly out of the ordinary!

No, Lowell had realised now. It had been a trap. To lure his group, and him specifically. Then things were handed out in mockeries of actual hardships, like they always were. He seethed at all that. At this toothless dungeon, at how quickly his dumb companions had lapped it all up.

"Let go."

"HUH!?" Lowell coiled into attention. "Who said that!?"

Nothing but the noise of water running up ahead.

He was going crazy. He needed food, he needed water. He needed rest.

He knew moving forward would lead him to at least one of these things.

He found himself on the ground again. Had he passed out?

He stood back up, took a moment to reorient himself, find the wall again, and walk forward.

His shoe accidentally shot into something that must've been on the ground; it was launched ahead by a few feet.

Tentatively, he approached where it must've stopped, crouched to pick it up... And found the broken remnants of his mandolin.

"What... the..." He felt around for the item, both confused and mesmerised. Had he walked in a circle?

Must've been because of the darkness. He had to be careful.

"Leolia?" he called out. "Doan? Or one of you three? Boy?"

He threw the wooden splinters off to the side and continued ahead.

"Bu, jvyy lbh cyrnfr qel gubfr grnef Ybjryy," n tynpvny ibvpr fnvq. "Oblf qba'g pel."

"What?" asked a confused Lowell holding a broken mandolin. "Where am I? ...Oh."

"I'm a girl..." the three-year-old replied.

"Gung vf abg ubj vg jbexf. Lbh ner n obl naq oblf qba'g pel. Abj orunir."

"V qba'g xabj jung gb qb jvgu bhe yvggyr Ybjryy. Ur ershfrf gb trg va uvf pybgurf," gur ibvpr fnvq gb nabgure.

"That's because they're boy clothes! I don't want them!" the five-year-old pleaded. "Because I'm -"

"A girl." Lowell said, finishing the sentence.

"Fuhg hc. Lbhe zbgure naq V ner gnyxvat," vagreehcgrq gur bgure ibvpr, cnvashy yvxr sver.

Even this garbled version of his father's voice scared him to the core.

"Please, I need you to listen to me," Lowell pleaded, hunkering down and pulling his younger self into a tight embrace.

"Guvf obl'f abg evtug," gur vpl ibvpr zhggrerq, guvaxvat gur fvk lrne byq pbhyqa'g urne vg. "Jr arrq gb qb fbzrguvat."

"Run away from them. As fast as you can. Anywhere, someone, somewhere is bound to take you," he demanded. "Can you promise me that?"

"Qba'g jbeel," tur oheavat bar ercyvrq. "V'yy funcr gung guvat vagb fbzrguvat cerfragnoyr. OBL! PBZR URER!"

The girl obliged.

...What had that just been? Lowell looked around him confused, not to mention fruitlessly as light still had not appeared anywhere in this total darkness.

Had he... Done something? Something about his... childhood memories…

He didn't want to look at them again. So he couldn't confirm anything.

The noise of water never seemed to get closer.

"Vzcbffvoyr. Lbh ner vzcbffvoyr gb jbex jvgu, Ybjryy." Gur tynpvny ibvpr pvepyrq onpx naq sbegu nebhaq gur sbhegrra-lrne-byq, jub unq ghearq qbja lrg nabgure cresrpgyl tbbq zneevntr pnaqvqngr. "Ubhfr Perfprag jvyy arire jnag gb gnyx jvgu hf ntnva nsgre gur jnl lbh gerngrq gurve qnhtugre."

"Mom," Lowell said, his hand clutching his teenage self's. "I am not very interested in women."

"And I would tell you more than that even, but it'd be pointless, since you do not care about me. You are never gonna listen, just spout this endless dribbel that's as scary as any babbled loud noise."

The ghostly appearance of the woman didn't respond, unmoving, as if stuck in time. "You are just no longer gonna be in my life. In person, in thoughts, in apparitions. You missed your chance," he finished.

Things were different now.

Things would never be the same.

He was a fool to not have taken his leave sooner. He should've left their toxic company years ago.

Before their hatred poisoned his mind.

Women were so lucky, thought the sixteen-year-old. So lucky, and, maybe, he was one of them.

It's so easy to live life with the good kind of body. The good kind being the one you wanted.

He could've paid any cost to obtain his choice. But that was desperation, not a requirement.

He'd fled the voices, because their only desire was to hurt him and stifle his growth.

He would find his true family elsewhere, as a musician, and for that, he would strive.

The Mad King gave away benevolently so much all over the world. As if by astral magnetism, he had found companions that needed those boons too, even if he didn't know it yet.

Everywhere, smiling faces. Maybe he and his friends would join this crowd soon.

It warmed his heart.

And there he would go, on the quest to find one of the Mad King's gifts. A justification his mind had created for why he'd needed one. No, not a justification. An excuse.

The Mad King had known Lowell needed this convoluted setup to get his mind to change. But he couldn't deny it either - the time he'd spent with Doan, Boy and Leolia, even before they went by those names, had already fragilized the monolithic teachings of his parents that had been etched into his brain. This day had just been the last struggle of a dying bigotry.

And he was letting go.

A bright light enveloped the tunnel suddenly, as a door in the wall in front of him opened. Almost blinded, he looked behind him for a second while his eyes adjusted, and spotted the remnants of his mandolin just lying there, even though he'd been walking for hours. He chuckled, picked up whatever he could salvage from it, and crossed the door.

"Bu, jvyy lbh cyrnfr qel gubfr grnef, Ybjryy," n tynpvny ibvpr fnvq. "Oblf qba'g pel."

"What?" asked a confused Lowell holding a broken mandolin. "Where am I? ...Oh."

He knew what words he would need to say.

"Lowell! Get your ass over there, wherever you are!" shouted Drix, exploring through the corridors looking for him. "I, uh... miss you, buddy..." she mumbled to herself.

"Lowell! Please, we are waiting for you!" yelled Orwenna in another tunnel. "We have unanimously decided not to move ahead without you!"

"How are they doing?" asked Boy.

"Still no luck, apparently..." replied Anna, her goopy hand holding her chin.

"I'm sure he'll pop up somewhere eventually," Affirmed the mage, still busy drying out her robe and her fur. "Have you seen that guy's sheer persistence?"

Boy chuckled. "More than once, for sure... The days where I haven't had an occasion have been rarer than the opposite so far."

"Ah!" exclaimed Anna before her face drooped once more. "Nevermind. Drix thought she saw his shadow."

"Alright. That's enough energy spent," Boy started. "Let's just stop the search and camp here. This is a prime location for a meetup, a big, central room. Noisy waterfall that'll probably grab his attention. If he pops up again in the middle of the night, this is where we'll have the highest chance to encounter him. Tell Drix and Orwenna to come back."

"I guess we are a bit tired..." admitted Anna.

"Yeah, I need to let the pages of my spellbook dry, too," Leolia replied. "A few hours’ break would be welcome."

They regrouped, made makeshift mattresses out of the moss that was growing there, and soon drifted off to sleep…

Not long before being awoken by a ray of light in the wall opposite the lake.

Doan had the least difficulties lifting their eyelids back open (though that does not mean it was easy), but the moment they saw the silhouette in the light, their whole body jumped to full attention. "Lowell!!" They jumped on their feet and went to hug their sibling in arms.

"I'm glad to be back," Lowell replied, returning the embrace. "And I'm sorry for today."

"It's alright," replied Orwenna, who had sprang out of Doan's chest. "If my hunch is right, today must've been a stressing and frustrating day for you, correct?"

"Yes, it has been. But that doesn't make my actions acceptable. Please don't just forgive me like this."

"Well, too bad," said Drix, taking Orwenna's place. "Cuz I'm gonna."

A little mewl escaped the sleepy lips of Leolia as she stood up and joined in the discussion. "So what's been your trial, fellow fragile person?"

"I'm not sure, but... I think I was sent on a trip through my own thoughts?" Lowell explained. "Wasn't exactly the best experience. But I needed it. I'm back in my groove now."

"That's good," Boy said from a distance, lifting herself up in a graceful movement that made Doan's heart skip a beat. "We just need to find our way out now."

"Hmm..." Doan thought for a minute. "Well, I saw nothing in either direction when I went looking for Lowell, so..."

Lowell glanced behind his companions, and pointed towards the lake. "What about the waterfall?"

His companions exchanged a look, then stepped aside, letting him approach the shore with a slow pace. Once he'd arrived at the edge of the water, he turned around. "Wait, you think...?"

"Yeah," Leolia admitted. "That's probably it for you. See you on the other side?"

The water took on a golden hue, as if wanting to confirm the group's suspicions.

Lowell stripped out of his clothing in one over-excited swoop, confided his late instrument to the princess, and plunged into the water after a running start. It didn't take him long before he started moving towards the waterfall, but he immediately noticed something in his brain switching and telling him underwater was the most comfortable place in the world to be. He still had regular lungs for now though, and had to break the water's surface to take a breath before plunging back in.

But yeah. This did feel nice. And comfortable. And natural. Just like what he felt happening to his body. It was as if his goatee, body hair and even his angular features were being washed away and smoothened by the water. Yes. That's what she'd waited a lifetime for, after all! She couldn't not be giddy.

She felt little slices on the side of her face, and quickly brought up her right hand to touch and appreciate her new gills. Breathing, with or without water, felt as natural as one another now.

As she reached the waterfall, she started flicking her legs as strongly as she could to try to climb up, and while it felt like the waterfall was tearing her masculinity out and watering new curves onto her body, even lengthening and lightening her hair towards a sandy blonde, little if not no progress was made.

She couldn't really see it, but she did feel it. The energy of the golden water approaching and concentrating on her location, the rest of the water turning back to its usual hue. This energy grabbed her at the hips, made her feel stronger than ever, and as she slowly managed to gain height, golden scales appeared atop her legs, wrapping them up inside a majestic scaly tail. Her heart had never beaten this strongly in all her life. She was exhilarated. Today was the day. No longer was she drowning in dark, deeply rooted thoughts, but she was finally free to sail wherever she wanted.

When finally she reached the top of the waterfall, she let her voice explode into song from the joy she was feeling in her heart. It sounded angelic, maybe divine even. The lyrics were simple, too: "I am Lullaby." While she didn't want to stop singing, she had a job to do, and looking around, she found what she hoped had been what she'd been looking for - a lever, eerily similar to the one in the trap room that had changed Doan. She flipped it with a flick of her tail, and slabs of stone started pushing out of the wall, forming stairs from where her party members were all the way up to the little alcove at the top of the waterfall.

They joined her at the top, and thanked the pantheon there was a door to get them out of here.

"Uh..." Lullaby realised. "Can someone lift me up?"

Boy grabbed her by the waist and cradled her in her arms. "That's until we find a better system, I suppose."

Oh.

Um.

Maybe Lullaby was more bisexual than straight. Maybe the feelings she’d interpreted as “male urges” all these years ago was more a proof of desiring both teams.

"No fair, I wanna be carried too~" Anna jumped out of Doan to join Lullaby in Boy's arms.

Definitely bisexual.

The room in which they arrived instilled in them a strange calmness. Leolia recognized here the effects of an enchantment, but her attention was on the sigils on the ground written in chalk, which no mage would be caught dead unable to recognise. Those were a teleportation circle. She lowered herself to look at the circle from a closer point of view - the chalk was recent, perhaps even fresh.

And written next to it was "Yes, do go in".

"I swear, I will kill the Mad King myself one day," she growled.

But, well, it was otherwise a dead end. So they hopped in.

It didn't take them long to understand they had arrived in a garden of some kind. A housekeeper somewhere in her fifties, who seemed strangely unaccustomed to her own work outfit, had been waiting for their arrival. "If you would please follow me to the baths...? My master desires to speak with you once you have cleaned yourselves up."

"MAAAAAD KIIIIING!" growled Leolia again.


	5. Epilogue

The evening at the Mad King's castle ended up being a pleasant occasion to relax. Leolia caught up on some banter with her favorite rival, Lullaby enjoyed a good bath and some delicious laverbread, Boy took a moment to close her eyes and catch some rest, Drix and Orwenna jested back and forth to release some steam, and Anna discovered her romantic attraction extended to all the party members.

The group took the King up on his offer to spend the night, and when morning came he found himself having to quell the worries of some of the implications that had only hit them just now. Yes, it is in slimefolks' best interest to avoid swamps. Yes, metal scales weigh just as much as armor, but can't be removed. Yes, there is some anatomical quirkiness to having two midsections. And yes, fish tails really aren’t made to walk on land. He promised one of the gifts he had prepared would help with that last one.

From the great oak chest the Mad King brought out, he gave away a knife, a mirror, a tunic and a necklace. All of them magical, of course.

The knife's blade was spectral in appearance. Doan had been entrusted with it - this knife never hurt nor left any scar, but any stabbing made with it would inform the assailant of their victim's most important subconscious feelings. It could look into people's hearts, was the short explanation. Apparently the King had made great use of it when he was starting out on his quest to help all those he could, but eventually grew able to read these feelings on people's faces, bypassing the need for this weapon.

The mirror's surface was opaque, and rippled to the touch. When Boy received it, she was told it would give her the location of any person in distress as long as they desired to be found. Yet another gift the King had received from the numerous deities he had met in his life, that his abilities had also outgrown.

The dress Leolia received was specifically designed for her new body. It was similar to her old robe - perhaps slightly more regal in appearance - and just as covered in magical runes for facilitating spell-casting. In fact, the supplementary space allowed for a few new ones to be snuck in... She didn't know whether to hug or to slap her old friend when she spotted the ones for transmutation magic.

As for the jewelry Lullaby got, its magic was as needlessly convoluted as everything always was with the Mad King. One might have been satisfied with simply giving the mermaid a necklace that could give her legs when she so desired, but this solution was instead swapped for a naga's tail. But, both Lullaby and the King insisted, it was perfect.

It was with a tearful goodbye that the group decided to split there. Lullaby wanted to go explore the seas and oceans of the world, Leolia spoke of unfinished studies she wanted to go back to, Boy wanted to finalize his village's tradition by coming back home. Doan hugged the princess and the mermaid tightly, then chose to follow along with the dragoness's quest.

Puzzled stares were everywhere when Boy the dragoness came back home. She announced herself as such, Doan gently gripping her arm.

The first people she met with were her own parents, who after a confused hug from a dragonborn woman they had never met, managed to put two and two together. Boy's mom nervously laughed, explaining that now the title did make sense, though they didn't know how it had even happened. Boy slapped herself on the forehead as she remembered the isolationist tendencies of this place had always prevented them from hearing of the Mad King.

It was in front of the village's council that she repeated the story of the Mad King for the second time since arriving back home. The same puzzled faces from earlier were their first response, but Doan was grateful the people seemed at least open-minded, despite their reclusiveness.

The council then shared them a trouble they had had in the past few years with the Elder fortune teller, to which Boy was quick to reply it had been building for decades already with an impassive tongue. After visiting the woman and making use of Doan's knife, her answer was just as cutting: the woman was overworked for her age, and if they did not let her rest soon and find an apprentice to replace her, she would spend the rest of her old days senile and in mental anguish.

The council members did not take the threat lightly. The elder was soon relieved of her duties, and after a few weeks of rest, she was able to say sorry to Boy for the way she had been treated all those years ago.

Boy and Doan spent a short month in the dragoness' home village resting from their adventures, and getting married.

The marriage had no ceremony, no desire to invite any family to a slug of a day. The honeymoon had been quite a bit more interesting a tale.

They soon found themselves taking the road again, deciding to dedicate their knife and mirror to helping those in need.

Leolia's story continued back in Oxward. She saw a place entirely modified by the Mad King's gifts, an epiphany as she realized smart but frail people often had grievances about their body and the knowledge to voice them. She regretted avoiding both her own thoughts and making friends back during her first visit.

She was surprised at first when she was refused at the entrance exam, but it made sense once she was informed of an offer to teach instead. The knowledge and experience staying in studies would've given her, she had already obtained during her travels.

Of all things, she found herself teaching transmutation, and had to rely on her dress' magic at first, but made do, and with practicing on her own time, eventually could remove it without losing in her abilities. She shared it around to struggling students so they could get a feel for what a successful spell felt like, so they could rely on memory to reproduce it without the dress's help.

To only her mild surprise, students started to... join her species, so to speak. Of their own volition and ability, from gifts by the Mad King... Not all explanations were the same. Which puzzled her, as not even a few days into her teaching she'd heard her old friend had vanished from the face of the world; so why had the gifts kept on coming?

She took the summer break to go back into the world and look for explanations, and her travelling friends.

Lullaby felt free, felt alive, felt engrossed by her life in the sea! ...Felt bored, mostly. There weren't many others down there, and it was hard to charm other mermaids when all had singing voices that rivaled her own.

Nonetheless it was a learning experience, and she still preferred staying under water over land, but with her necklace, she had no reason not to do both.

And so she returned to the surface, a slitherine tail on herself she could swap for her beloved mermaid one whenever she met a river or a lake. She desired only two things: to continue wooing any and all for some fun evenings together, and to meet up with her old party members again.

The latter of the two tasks proved arduous, but not unfeasible.

Back on the night they left the King's castle…

"Well, isn't that a job well done?" he muttered to his housekeeper, waving at the departing guests.

"Yes- yes sir, it is." The housekeeper fidgeted around before managing to utter her question. "May I take my leave for the evening, sir?"

"Oh yes, of course. Go enjoy yourself, lass. First day as yourself is important, I would know."

She quickly bowed with a smile and went back in the castle, directing herself to the employee's lounge.

The King stayed outside, waiting for her to get out of earshot. "You can come out."

A deep blue smoke billowed behind him, slowly taking on a humanoid shape before revealing a gorgeous, plump woman with long hair of the same color as the smoke. "Your efforts haven't gone unnoticed, sir Mad King. As I'm sure you already know."

"Gaaah, what's with the formalities, after you just helped me with that singing fish lass?" He smiled, snapping himself around in her direction. "Thanks, by the way."

She giggled. "Oh, you have thanked me plenty already. Plus I do love helping a mortal or two..." She took on a serious face once more. "Anyway, the reason why I am here tonight I hope will explain the reason for my formal tone."

He nodded. "Hmm hm?"

The deity approached him slowly, her hips swaying with each step. "Well, as I'm sure you already know, the last deity of chaos finds their time done, and wishes to move to the pantheon... Which leaves us an opening for the position."

"Oh ho, are you sure you want a merciful Mad God of Chaos? Isn't that unprecedented?" he retorted, fueled only by a desire to appear ungraspable.

"Doesn't that only make it more chaotic, my friend?"

He pretended to think it over for a moment. "You know what? I do believe it does." He extended his hand.

She grabbed onto it, and with another column of smoke, both of them were gone.


End file.
